


Cold morning

by tveckling



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Feels, Depression, Established Relationship, M/M, No one's having a good day here, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: The other side of the bed is cold when Chris wakes up, and in a moment he's fully awake.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	Cold morning

**Author's Note:**

> For my beloved helig after prompt call on Twitter. Wrote it on twitter but it became too long so posted here lolll

The other side of the bed is cold when Chris wakes up, and in a moment he's fully awake. There's not even a thought about getting clothes, all he can think of is finding his boyfriend. The memory of finding Leon in the kitchen when he came home, sitting motionlessly in the dark, staring silently with a mostly-empty bottle on the table, haunts him. Chris had heard about Leon's mission, knew about the family of civilians Leon hadn't been able to save, how they died in front of his very eyes. And he remembers so clearly the bone-shattering relief he felt when he didn't see a gun anywhere, but also the agonized helplessness that filled him when he saw Leon's dead eyes. 

In the end he got Leon cleaned up and in bed, eventually falling asleep while holding his love close, only able to keep calm by listening to Leon's breathing. 

And now Leon's gone, and Chris can only remember those dead eyes. He can only think about the arsenals of weapons they both own. He can only hear one of Leon's old whispered confessions, about how badly he sometimes wishes for death. 

Those dead eyes.

Leon's not in the living room. Not in the kitchen, though Chris quickly spots the open cupboard where Leon keeps his liquor. The cupboard now empty.

He can't breathe as he rushes through the apartment, searching every room, trying to listen for any sounds. Then he sees it, the open balcony door, and his heart jumps up into his throat. His hands are shaking violently, he can feel them too clearly, but his legs don't give out, and he rushes out through the door - and he spots Leon immediately.

Alone, sitting frozen like a sculpture at the small table they've spent so many warm evenings at. There are bottles taking up the whole surface, and Chris' heart plummets far past his stomach as he spots the gun next to Leon's hand. Just lying there, thankfully, untouched, while both of Leon's hands are wrapped around yet another bottle. He's staring straight ahead, silent, not moving or in any way reacting as Chris slowly inches closer.

Finally Chris comes to the table, and as he reaches out a hand he keeps his eyes on Leon, looking for any movements. But Leon stays still, doesn't move, doesn't blink as Chris grabs the gun, as he removes and tosses the magazine somewhere to the side. Tosses the gun to the other side, stupid and thoughtlessly.

Then he leans down, hugs Leon hard, listens to the other man's breathing. Leon sits still, silent.

Then, "I'm sorry."

Chris can't answer, too busy listening, too busy feeling Leon in his arms, too busy shaking.

"I woke up. Couldn't- couldn't get them out of my head. Their faces. All of their faces, everyone I've failed." Leon's voice is toneless, and somehow that's worse than if he'd broken down. He's drunk so much, but he barely slurs, and later that will worry Chris as well, but now he can't think about anything but what Leon is saying. "And I couldn't- stay. I thought- I wanted it to end. It hurts, all the time, every time I remember. And I never forget, not really."

The gun. The alcohol, and the gun.

But the gun is unloaded, safe. Leon's in his arms, safe.

"This-" Leon tilts the bottle, but doesn't drink, "-helps. It makes me forget, a little. Makes my head foggy, and when it's foggy I don't think as much, and if I don't think then it doesn't hurt. So I drank. But it didn't help, so I drank more, and more, until it did."

He chuckles, and the sound is as joyless as the dead eyes in Chris' head. "It's cheaper than therapy. So what else can you do? It works… it helps."

Leon falls silent again. Chris says nothing. Can't say anything, can't find any words, can't decide what emotion he's feeling. He just hugs Leon tighter. This close it's hard to tell from whom the shaking is coming from, or who takes comfort in whom.


End file.
